Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I checked the door more times today
than I ought count,
but anyway I did—

obsessions and compulsions
would be merciful
and yet excuses nonetheless;

I have more fears of thievery
than I ought count—
and more than I have locks—

but I can’t list my treasures
or enumerate
the foci of my phobias.

I checked the door more times today—
and it was locked,
was locked from first the start

and rattled like my own heart,
beating excuses
and yet excuses nonetheless

and sweaty ones and nervous ones
I ought snub not,
but anyway I did

until I owned my safety
locked away inside
unopened, hidden, unaware.